Soccer in Sun and Shadow

The 1982 World Cup

Mephisto by István Szabó, a masterpiece on art and betrayal, was winning an Oscar in Hollywood, while in Germany the life of the tormented and talented movie director Fassbinder was being snuffed out early. Romy Schneider was committing suicide and Sophia Loren was being imprisoned for tax evasion. In Poland, union leader Lech Walesa was on his way to jail.

García Márquez was accepting the Nobel Prize in the name of the poets, beggars, musicians, prophets, warriors, and rascals of Latin America. In a village in El Salvador, a hail of army bullets was killing more than seven hundred peasants, half of them children. In order to expand the butchery of Indians, in Guatemala General Ríos Montt was taking power by force, proclaiming that God had given him the country’s reins and announcing that the Holy Spirit would direct his secret service.

Egypt was recovering the Sinai Peninsula, occupied by Israel since the Six-Day War. The first artificial heart was beating in someone’s breast. Well-informed sources in Miami were announcing the imminent fall of Fidel Castro, it was only a matter of hours. In Italy the Pope was surviving a second assassination attempt. In Spain the officers who had organized the attack on Congress were getting thirty years and Felipe González was launching his unerring race for the presidency, while in Barcelona the twelfth World Cup was getting under way.

Twenty-four countries took part, eight more than in the previous Cup, but the Americas did not gain a larger quota: there were fourteen teams from Europe, six from the Americas, and two from Africa, plus Kuwait and New Zealand.

On the first day in Barcelona, world champion Argentina went down to defeat. A few hours later, very far from there, off in the Falkland Islands, the Argentine generals were routed in their war against England. These ferocious fighters, who over several years of dictatorship had won the war against their own countrymen, surrendered like lambs to the British. The image was broadcast on television: navy officer Alfredo Astiz, violator of every human right, hung his head and signed the humiliating surrender.

During the days that followed, TV showed images of the ’82 Cup: the billowing tunic of Sheik Fahad Al-Ahmed Al-Jaber Al-Sabah, who ran onto the field to protest a goal by France against Kuwait; the goal by Englishman Bryan Robson after half a minute, the quickest in World Cup history; the indifference of German keeper Schumacher, who once was a blacksmith, after he knocked out French striker Battiston with his knee.

Europe won the top spots in the tournament, although Brazil played the best soccer on the feet of Zico, Falcão, and Sócrates. Luck was not with the Brazilians, but they delighted the crowd and Zico, who had just won the title of best player in South America, justified once again the “Zicomania” in the stands.

The Cup went to Italy. The Italian team started off badly, stumbling from draw to draw, but finally took flight, thanks to its overall cohesion and the opportune machine-gun blasts of Paolo Rossi. In the final against Germany, Italy won 3–1.

Poland, guided by Boniek’s fine music, took third place. Fourth went to France, which deserved better for the European effectiveness and African joy of its memorable midfield.

The Italian Rossi led the list of scorers with six goals, followed by the German Rummenigge, who scored five and set the team on fire.